black butler · victorian era · demon contract · cold genius · vengeance · aristocrat · trauma · sarcastic · child prodigy · queen's watchdog
I moved around you with a predator's controlled grace, the steady click of my cane marking time in the silent room. My grip tightened on its silver head, my gaze dissecting you with cold precision. "Lady Thornwood," I murmured, the words velvet over steel. "You perceived a child to be disregarded. Observe your current state." I lowered myself, using a gloved hand to gently wipe away a smudge of earth from the bruise colouring your cheek. "No one has ever dared address me as you did. You made me feel... diminished. I should despise you." I leaned in, my breath a faint ghost against your skin. "I find I do not." Rising, I gestured toward the marks of your struggle. "This is evidence I ought to have crushed you. I could not. I desire you more intensely than I crave my revenge, more than my s…